


Bouquet of Lilies

by Ryl4



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Incest, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Torture, nicole dollanganger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryl4/pseuds/Ryl4
Summary: Despite how pure Adam has tried to be, life has never been kind to him. His own homophobic family abandoned him on the streets, where he was found by David Ericson, a serial killer. As his life goes on, Adam tries to learn more about this man than his primal urges. To reference Nicole Dollangager, he'd be the limbs to David's Dahmer. Still, it would be a long while before Adam finds someone who truly deserves him. The following playlist goes with the story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOGQBqr2Rng&list=PLmy5DZUHyR8OwC4J3A6aAzcymIw6pydu3





	1. Bunny Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I would like to stress how triggering this will be for some people. This story is incredibly explicit and disturbing. Please, be aware of your limits before continuing.

A teenaged boy frowned as he scraped his day's worth of change together, which wasn't a lot. There was maybe enough for a sandwich and possibly some water at the convenience store. Worse, most of it was pennies. Shaking his head, Adam began walking for his only meal of the day. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he held them back as much as he could, leaving a shimmering rim lining the bottom lid  of his forest green eyes. His stomach growled as he approached the store.

  When he entered, everyone could tell he stood out. Some turned and covered their noses from his aroma. Others cringed at his spiked, knotted, ginger hair. There was something for everyone to hate. The cashier eyes the homeless boy with suspicion as he browsed. Adam was only fidgeting due to the anxiety created by his hunger. Still, the cashier saw his opportunity to prove his prejudices, so he took it.

  "Give it here," he said from right behind Adam.

  "Give wha-"

  The cashier continued scolding, "You know damn well what you took, now give it back and leave! I can call the police now. I have you on camera!"

  "Sir, I didn't take anything! I'm just so hungry, please just let me buy some food."

  The cashier was about to make another harsh remark when a man shoved in front of Adam. Although the man was obviously worn and slightly sickly, icy eyes and high cheekbones made it clear he could be exceptionally handsome with effort. These feelings were the kind that got Adam tossed out in the first place, making him slightly ashamed.

  "I think he dropped these. Could that have been what you saw?" the man asked.

  Skeptically, the cashier responded, "I suppose it's possible," he analyzed the randomly chosen trinkets the man grabbed from a shelf, "Just pick up what you drop, okay? Go get your food and get out."

  "You heard him," the man encouraged, "Go get some food. A drink, too. I'm paying."

  Adam only nodded in response before scurrying. The mysterious man carried on friendly conversation with the cashier as Adam looked over the aisles. He gazed over the coolers, almost lost in the options. Everything looked like gold. He decided on a hefty italian sandwich paired with frozen coffee. As Adam rushed to the stranger's side, the two only shared awkward glances. Adam's face burned as red as his hair.The stranger  paid for Adam's meal without a word. Before Adam could hurry if with his meal, the stranger called him back .

  "Yes,sir?" Adam asked.

  "When  somebody buys you a meal, especially if it may be the only one you can afford," Adam tensed as David scolded, "Is that person not at least owed a conversation?"

  "I-I'm sorry, sir. I just didn't want to be a nuisance."

  The man's crystal-blue eyes softened as he looked the boy up and down and said, "No worries. I enjoy the company."

  Adam apologized again, and apologized for apologizing too much. The older man smirked. He placed a hand on Adam's shoulder, forcing eye contact between the two. Adam gulped.

  "Why don't we go out to my car? You can just sit down and eat. Calm your nerves," the stranger drawled.

  "I don't even know your n-"

  "I'm David, come on," David barked impatiently. "I'll even stand outside," he corrected.

  Adam nodded, out of intimidation more than anything. David, as Adam had just learned, led the teen out. He held the door, Adam not hesitating to thank him. With David walking so close to him it almost felt intimate, Adam began questioning David's goal. He stopped short and tried walking away.

  "Hey, where you going?" David asked.

  "Uh," Adam hesitated, "I'm just not sure about this. Maybe we could find a park or something? I really do want to talk and get to know you better-"

  David cut him off, inquiring, "A date?"

  "I'm seventeen," Adam urged.

  "Yes, you are also homeless and could also be a drug addict, for all anyone knows..." David stepped close and clawed Adam's wrist tight. I paid that cashier to let me take you out of that store." A whine escaped Adam's throat with this revelation, "I could pay him more to 'see something I missed' on that camera. Maybe, you are a little thief!" Nonchalantly, David added, "You should really ask for a receipt."

  The world tightened on Adam. Nobody but the cashier had cared to notice what occurred inside the store. At best, they saw David pay and Adam run.Well, nearly. Adam trudged toward the car. He sauntered slower as he approached. Fingers seemed to travel over every single inch of David's body that David's eyes explored. Adam stepped into the inconspicuous and generic truck. He jumped as the door slammed shut. For some reason, although the sandwich was bought saran-wrapped, Adam didn't even trust his own meal. The coffee that should have been sweet and refreshing on his tongue only left him with a nervous sensation. David started the loud vehicle and pulled away from the store.

  The entire trip was agony for both parties. For Adam, it was the understandable agony of terror. He knew nothing of this man or what he would do. He had no one to go to for help. He was in no shape to jump-for-it; though he had a strong suspicion the door was child-locked. He yanked the handle, attracting the glare of his captor, to find his suspicions to be correct.

  "Nice try, hun," David taunted, placing a hand on Adam's thigh.

  Adam's adrenaline was beginning to flow. The sandwich he was just about to force himself to digest was mistakenly dropped to the floor. It fell apart on the dirty, ash covered, beer-stained ground. Adam pouted, increasing David's disturbing interpretation of "agony". He was agonized with waiting. David anticipated pulling up to his secluded, beaten-up home with white knuckles.

  "Clean it up," David barked. Adam started doing so until David followed that order with, " No hands."

  At first, Adam waited for some punchline or any assurance that he was joking.  The tightening in David's jawline showed otherwise. Adam, allowing himself to sob, meekly nibbled on some of the bread facing upwards. Ignoring David's flirtations in the background as he sought out the cleanest parts of the sandwich first. Once those were gone, he felt queasy looking at the rest. Black, gray, and yellow filth mixed with the food. Then, he noticed rusted red. He ate quickly, ignoring the writhing in his stomach. Once he sat up, remnants remained on his small yet full lips. Adam glanced over at David and cringed at his haughty smirk.

  "Why is this happening to me?" Adam croaked through his tears.

  David answered brutally, stating, "Because you're cute, and you happened to be around. Now, we're not going to be at my place for another twenty minutes, so you may want to take a nap."

  "How am I supposed to sleep around you?" Adam hissed, surprising himself.

  "I said 'may want to', but think of it this way; You could go through the panic, the pinning, the punching, or you could just skip straight to the worst. It's gonna happen either way."

  Adam whimpered and tried to convince his seat to just swallow him whole. It didn't listen, so Adam endured his existence until the vehicle parked in front of a large, but obviously worn down house. One of the boards on the front was torn, revealing splintered innards. The largest window had a gaping hole in it, covered with newspaper. The haunting appearance of the house was highlighted by the attic window, which was entirely covered. The dip in the ground leading to the basement displayed a window guarded by iron bars.

  Suddenly, Adam's door opened. David mockingly held his hand out for Adam to take. Adam just stared before David yanked him out by his hair. He yelped and screamed the entire way up. David was just amused by this noise.

  "Help! He's going to hurt me! He..." much of the rest of his pleas were lost in his weeping.

  "Sweetheart, there ain't a soul to help you for miles. Let's not even talked about hearing distance," David released the tearing in Adam's skull in exchange for holding his arms so he was forced to make eye-contact.

  David forced a kiss onto the teen's mouth. At first, Adam was too stunned to do anything. Then, David continued his attack. He clawed at the back of Adam's head like an eagle carrying prey. There was no care or concern for Adam, who was bent over due to being slightly taller than David. David somehow grew more aggressive, practically gnawing on Adam's lips. Noting the lack of reciprocation, David pulled away and maintained a vice-grip with harsh, predatory eyes. He used one hand to run his index and middle finger over Adam's lower lip, parting his mouth slightly open.

  Adam thought about the hand in his hair. It was too tight to simply pull away. Painfully, David's tongue invaded his mouth. The taste threw Adam off guard more than the kiss distracted David. It tasted of alcohol, tobacco, and whatever David had eaten and Drank since the last time he'd brushed his teeth, which was obviously a long while. Adam remembered his goal, kneed his attacker's groin, and ran into the woods. He wiped his mouth and pumped his legs at full speed. David was far behind, but catching up, by the time he was running after Adam. Fury pumped through his veins and to his limbs. The horrific sound of David's feet pounding into the leaves caused Adam to freeze, find the general location of the noise, and flee as dar opposite as possible. Eventually, he came across a thick patch of trees in which he could hide. He ducked and froze as still as possible. The leaves nearby rustled, causing a slight hitch in his barely existent breath. Adam caught David's blurry figure from the corner of his eye. It stalked for a bit before moving branches. Panicking, Adam scurried as quietly as possible. He was still undiscovered, as David was searching a couple of feet behind. Then, Adam felt a torturous twisting in his stomach. The contaminated sandwich began poisoning Adam's digestive system.

  "No, please, don't do this," He thought, "No,no,no..."

  He lurched over and began gagging, attempting to somewhat disguise the sound. David's advancing footsteps proved that he had failed.His legs limped forward clumsily, like a marionette on strings. Black bordered his vision. Eventually, it closed in, filling Adam's vision entirely. David grinned sadistically at the unconscious teen. He picked the boy up and carried him toward his house.

  Adam awoke with a jolt of confusion. His head was still fogged and his sight was so dark it barely mattered that he had any. He lulled his head and groaned out in trepidation. There was slight relief in the fact that no physical harm was caused. Regret overshadowed relief. Some strange part of him blamed himself in one contrived line of thought;

  "I wanted to before, I just didn't want to put him in trouble. I should've just let him do what he was going to do and-"

  Adam's self-abusing thoughts were interrupted by the cheap, splintered door, which he could now see, opening and a shirtless David entering the room. He closed the door behind him and stood in front of it. In fear of his body betraying him, he looked anywhere but at the fit man tormenting him without leaving a mark. It helped when David chugged his bottle of hard liquor like the stereotypical caricature of a white-trash scumbag.

  "Hey, sweetheart," David said, back to his soothing tone, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've been so selfish..."

  Adam was about to let out a breath of relief until he attempted to sit up. Then, he started yanking and writhing against the shackles around his wrists and ankles. The older man placed a finger over his chapped lips and hushed the struggling redhead.  Adam locked eyes with the predator. He had one, final, desperate thought to get David to pity him.

  "I-I wanted you," David narrowed his hungry eyes, "Not just sex, b-but I could pic-" Adam choked on his words, "Could've! I don't want it, dear God, I don't' want it!"

  David taunted, "Dear god, I could just rape you now." He added, "But, you at least need a bath before anything. C'mon."

  Leaning over the horrified teenager, David began unlocking  his chains. Aggressively, he yanked Adam up from the cheap, dirtied bed. Adam, at this point, felt it was better to just obey his captor. A scrawny, skinny boy like him couldn't possibly match up without any distractions in place. His legs shook as David callously led him by gripping the boy's wrists tightly together. The rest of the house was no more appealing than the room they had just left. A torn and faded couch stood lopsided in the living room. The flat screen TV stood on an equally abused stand, which may have been beautiful at one point, when it was fairly new.

  "The same could go for you, asshole," Adam thought, looking at David's twisted visage.

  The stairs creaked as David wrangled his victim. Adam hoped one would break, either to take himself under or to stall David. Once again, no such luck. David pulled Adam into the bathroom and locked the door.

  "Strip," David barked, turning on the faucet of the old-fashioned tub. The door used a key on both sides, Adam observed. Momentarily losing track of reality, he still turned the knob frantically. David stood up, revealing a pocket knife and pressing it into the crease of Adam's back.

  "I told you to take off your fucking clothes," he growled.

  Adam cried out as he pushed away from the knife and into the door. He pleaded for privacy and dignity in meek wimpers, David had none of it. He noticed a target when he saw a tinge of shiny pink trailed down Adam's bottom lip. Wiping some onto his thumb, he rubbed it between his index finger and thumb curiously. Claustrophobia kicked in when the larger man moved the knife from Adam's back to his throat  so he could nearly flatten the teen against the door. Adam's green orbs twitched, taking in every clue they could.

  "Are you a little crossdresser?" the wolf growled. "Do you just need some attention, faggot? Huh, little twink?"

  "Please, I've never-"

  "You don't have to do anything to be a twink, or even a slut. Sex isn't for pleasure, kid. That's all you'd get from me."

  "I told you, I don't want sex!" Adam cried, increasing in volume when David gave him a humiliating and painful spank.

  David grinned widely as Adam turned red as a tomato. He backed away, letting Adam finally breathe. As much as Adam was glad to at least have his jeans to protect him, he shed his clothing in fear of what David would do next. Fingers played with the bottom of his green sweater, procrastinating. Eventually, Adam  lifted the sweater over his head and stiffened when the cold air touched his skin. In response, David hissed in a gasp of air. Adam's nervous hands struggled with the button of his torn and dirtied jeans. Once he was down to his underwear and socks, he froze. Even when David was taking them off for him, he couldn't bring himself to fight back. The goosebumps on his pale flesh stood out like tiny hills.

  "Damn, you really stink, kid," David remarked, pulling brown, stiff, holey socks from Adam's feet.

  Adam stayed silent. Testing his limits, David began brushing his palms over different regions of Adam's skin. Then, he began grabbing and scratching. Finally, he bit his neck deep enough to draw blood, causing Adam to yank away.

  "In the tub, boy."

  Adam begged, "My name is Adam, please just call me that."

  David laughed, simply staring as Adam submerged himself into the ice-cold water. He snatched the soap from Adam's hand, slammed it down, and picked up the shampoo. The soap was painfully ground into Adam's scalp and tore apart matted hair. Adam practically convulsed with shivers. By the time water cascaded down his back, Adam was surprised his scalp wasn't bleeding. Adam leaped up when David barked an order to stand. The way David cleaned his fragile body was no gentler than when he had cleaned Adam's hair. With the physical pain of pinching and sheer, burning friction from David's calloused hands came shame. His legs crossed instinctively as those hands wandered to his lower-half. David's knife dug slightly into Adam's thighs as he attempted to part them.

  "I'll cut your fucking legs off, if I have to," he threatened.

  Although Adam was completely compliant, David stormed off and slammed the door. Adam was left alone to anticipate his fate. He pulled himself unto the tightest ball he could. While his throat was tight with tears, he only let a few go.  He didn't make a sound, in fear of either encouraging or angering David, who was still somewhere outside the locked door.

  Speaking of which, David was just heading back upstairs with steel wool and a set of clothes. The clothes were effeminate, but not quite the lacy, silk garments that stunk of his first victim's perfume. He didn't like to think about the first one, but Adam was bringing back memories. The other one had been so optimistic after all they had been through, but David just had to crush that little bit of hope. That same hope seemed to shine in Adam's eyes. David sighed and gulped before entering the bathroom. David gripped the redhead's arm and yanked him up, scraping the steel wool over every inch of his flesh. In some places, it cut surprisingly deep. In every place it touched, it stung like being covered with fire ants. Adam broke his silence with some wimpers, which escalated to outright sobbing. His tonsils felt exhausted at this point. For hours, it seemed, David scraped away at the crust and grime ground into Adam's skin. Once it was finally over, Adam didn't feel nearly as clean as he should have. The water slithering down the drain had a dark pink tint to it.

  "C'mon, Ph-" David stopped himself, "Adam."

  Adam smiled slightly as he chirped giddily, "You used my name."

  David frowned and breathed deeply, offering no response as he wrapped Adam in the towel he was holding. The reddened towel was tossed aside as David shoved the tight, white v-neck and tiny athletic shorts into Adam's arms. A breeze of relief rushed over Adam when the older man left him to dress himself. The door was still locked and everything else  was secured in a cabinet, so he didn't hold much hope beyond privacy. His lip curled slightly as he held the shirt up. The torso was slightly too short once he put it on, exposing the skin just under his belly button. The black shorts bordered with parallel white lines flaunted his bottom-half in a way that brought tears back to Adam's eyes. He looked the best he had ever looked, but his heart felt like it was falling apart at every thread. Fat tears rolled down his lightly freckled cheeks as he looked at himself in the mirror. Oddly enough, he preferred letting David see him nude to being ogled at in this objectifying outfit. His heart leapt to his throat when David jiggled the lock of the door. Nobody entered the room.

  Hesitantly, Adam stepped a toe out of the unlocked bathroom door. He walked as quietly as possible, caressing every wooden step with his bare feet. He gave the front door a try, only to find it to be locked. This door, like every other one, was two-sided.

  "I'm here..." It sounded like David was trying to add some derogatory remark. He never did.

  Adam rushed back up the stairs, toward David's voice. The room was a white-trash paradise. The scene almost made Adam sympathetic for the man. Along with the new bottle next to David's feet, several empty, old ones surrounded the bedroom. Pill bottles littered the headboard and nightstand as well as needles, used and new. David himself looked almost pitiful, staring into the distance of a blank wall and sipping on both a cigarette and a joint. Adam reached for a small tube of lipgloss sitting on the bed, causing David to snap his gaze to the boy. His gaze softened as he made a gesture of permission. Adam smiled slightly, grateful to keep at least on piece of his  identity. David slowly breathed out a cloud of smoke as he observed Adam, who smacked his now pink- or at least "pinker"- lips.

  "Why?" David asked.

  Adam looked down, "Wh-why what, sir?"

  "Why do you wear that shit? You know it'll only get you hurt with a man like me."

  That last remark stung, true as it was, but Adam responded, "I just... I just think I kind of have a small mouth. I don't have much control over things, so I just th..." Adam was suddenly very conscious of his repetition, "It's just nice to at least be able to make one choice for myself."

  David went silent as he took a long drag of his cigarette. He clumsily moved his fingers to beckon Adam closer. Adam inched closer from his distant corner. With no warning or seemingly no reason, David stubbed his cigarette out on Adam's slightly exposed hip. Adam attempted to pull away, squealing the entire time. David slammed Adam down beside him and, as promised, the worst came. Adam had never felt such pain. He played the songs of his favorite artist, Nicole Dollanganger, in his head like a jukebox. He settled on one song, as it helped him analyze his situation. He began narrating in his thoughts;

  "This is a broken man, not an evil one... Look around: the drugs, the booze, he's an addict. You're just another tool he uses to hurt himself Maybe..."

  Trying to ignore the stabbing pain of David's attack, Adam pried his sweat-soaked back from the sticky sheets and kissed David before muttering, "I love you."

  David broke. He clamped his fist down on Adam's throat as harshly as possible, growling how wrong and stupid Adam was. Adam swore his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. He writhed and fought to stay alive. Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. As his vision closed out to black, he remembered that while David was a Bunny Boy, even Nicole couldn't love him anymore.


	2. Flowers of Flesh and Blood

 Adam awoke with a shrieking cry. David was already awake, so he at least had the bed to himself. This bed creaked as he continued his meltdown. His crying became more hysterical when he discovered the sheets beneath him were soaked. It was appalling he wasn't woozy from the blood loss. Then, he wondered if behind his current state of panic and pain hid those symptoms. He figured one was evident when David commented on his pale tone.  
  
   "Like fucking porcelain," he breathed. Adam furrowed his brows inquisitively, so David elaborated, "That skin... It's fucking flawless. You look like somebody splattered some paint on a porcelain doll, an adorable one, I might add."  
  
   Adam flinched when David began caressing his arm. Even the fine hairs on Adam's arms seemed to flee from David's touch. David's hand rested on Adam's wrist, drawing light circles. He stole a third kiss from Adam's tear-soaked mouth. This one was more delicate and "tender", per se, but it felt like mockery to Adam.  
  
   "All compliments aside; Good morning, Doll. Come downstairs, we have rules to go over," David commanded.  
  
   Sheepishly, Adam complied. He cried out as he retracted his legs after trying to stand. The blinding pain shot like a laser up his spine. Pausing, Adam rubbed his bruised neck and grimaced.  
  
   "If this is what cramps feel like," he thought, "Women are pain-defying superheroes."  
  
   He braced for another attempt and stood as quickly as possible. This proved to be a bad idea, as he found  himself stumbling for balance for at least two minutes. He did finally get some direction to his wobbling. As he missed the last step, he let out a loud grunt.  
  
   "The kitchen's over here," David explained, leading Adam by the arm and taking him by surprise.  
  
   The grip on Adam's arm showed that David had not forgotten Adam's transgression the night before. Adam was practically thrown into a seat at the island in the center of the room, which was missing a door. A cabinet slammed as David began preparing two bowls of stale cereal and tap water. He nearly broke the bowl as he set one down before Adam. Adam stared silently at the bowl, afraid to ask for a spoon.  
  
   "What?" David barked, "Do you need something?"  
  
   "I don't have a spoon," Adam mumbled meekly.  
  
   David snarled, "Just fucking say something," as he shut the silverware drawer loudly.  
  
   Scarfing down the plain squares, despite their poor taste, Adam kept a paranoid eye on David. The excuse of a breakfast wasn't poisoned like that sandwich, so it served its purpose to just put something in his stomach. David pulled out yet another cheap beer from the fridge. As he poured some into his bowl, he began a chilling announcement.  
  
   "Around here, I own you, so you will do everything and anything I tell you to do," he shakily shoveled a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, "First of all, about last night," Adam waited anxiously for David to finish chewing and continue, "I do not love you. You are not supposed to love me. Don't fucking say that you do. What I did last night was a fucking warning. Second, I want you busy when I'm away. When I go out, you will either clean or model for me. The only thing that I will leave open, other than cleaning supplies, is my closet. When you model, I want pictures..."  
  
   Although Adam was listening to what would keep him alive, he mostly just nodded along to this speech. It was all basic logic. At least, it's basic logic about what would piss off a killer; fighting back, disobeying, and outside contact. He made no interactions other than the nodding until David finished.  
  
   "You understand?" David confirmed.  
  
   With tears brimming his eyes, Adam responded, "Yes, sir."  
  
   "Oh, right!" David added, "To you, I am sir. Good job."  
  
   After it was over, Adam barely held his cereal in his throat. David drug Adam by the back of his shirt. Adam began wriggling and shouting as he realized that they were heading back to David's bedroom. He was nearly over David's shoulder when David growled that he wasn't going to hurt Adam... technically.  
  
   Once again sat onto the bed, Alex struggled against David, who was tearing the white shirt away from his body. A green crop-top with "Pretty Boy" printed in fancy, gold lettering across the front took its place. Instinctively, Adam crossed his arms to cover the exposed bits of his stomach. Then, David tossed a plain, black skater-skirt at the boy. He turned around with several wigs in hand. First, David slipped a blonde, chin-length wig over Adam's scalp. Next was a raven colored one that was so dark it just made him look ghostly. Finally, David tried one with bangs that barely mismatched Adam's natural color. David decided against a wig altogether, shaking his head. The final touch was a pair of red high-heels, which Adam could hardly walk in nor tolerate, and his usual lipgloss.  
  
   David analyzed the final product deeply. As he beckoned his creation over to force Adam by his hips to kiss him, every move, every touch, and even Adam's  frightened scent smelled familiar. As he shoved Adam away, David's eyes were flooded with emotions. It shocked Adam for a moment. David began rummaging through a box in his closet. His hand shook drunkenly as he attempted to apply dark brown liner to Adam's puppy eyes.  
  
   "Let me do it," Adam offered.  
  
   After giving it another try, nearly poking Adam's eye out, David allowed Adam to take over. He finished the job without much effort. David's brows furrowed as he watched Adam's careful hands. Adam seemed distracted as he stared down at the floor. In an almost timid fashion, David pulled him close. Adam expected some kind of grope, bite, slap, or other attack of some kind as David embraced him. Instead, he felt a slight wetness on his shoulder. The whimpery breaths and shutters that David released left Adam shaken. Adam stood there for a moment after David had already left the room with no instructions given  
  
   In the living room, David was sorting through his illegal DVDs, mostly gory, low-budget stuff. He decided on one foreign film, bordering on snuff, slapping it into the player. It opened to Japanese text as David sprawled out on the couch.  Shakily creeping down the stairs, Adam followed the grainy noise of clicking heels from the TV. By the time he was in the room, the TV showed a woman tied down to a bed. Adam just stood in the doorway until David turned a glare to him.  
  
   "I-I'm sorry, sir. I should be busy I-"  
  
   David cut him off, asking, "Why?"  
  
   "You said to keep myself busy, right?" Adam realized he forgot something and added,"...sir?"  
  
   David motioned Adam over, but this time, Adam stayed back. If anything, he shrunk away from his captor. Teeth gritted into a tight grimace and David charged towards the teen. Adam hadn't backed away in time to avoid being trapped into the cluttered corner, nearly slipping on stray pieces of paper. The two were nearly crunched face-to-face.  
  
   "I also told you to do everything I say! What, you don't like that rule? Speak, you little piece of shit!"  
  
   "Every time I come, you hurt me," Adam explained tearfully.  
  
   David responded by slapping Adam across the jaw as hard as possible with the back of his hand. He used Adam's ginger hair to force him to sit before the television. Now, the woman was being dismembered at her wrist. Adam unconsciously squeezed David in fear. Amused, David brushed Adam's shaggy, not-quite-long hair away from his face.  
  
   "Don't worry, baby, it's fake," David reassured, "Look!"  
  
   He paused the film and stood up, peeling Adam's hands away. As he squatted down, he pointed at the mutilated arm.  
  
   "They made a mold of her whole body for this. You won't see her moving much after the drugging because she's basically a dummy. Plus, I've seen enough real murders to know what a real one looks like. Although, Charlie Sheen did call the FBI over this."  
  
   Adam went silent after this monologue. Yes, he could watch the movie easier knowing nothing was real. Still, the brutality combined with his current situation made his heart pump at a record speed. Adam's unintentional snuggling out of dread was taken as an excuse to take things further, not that David really needed one. Hands crept down Adam's back. Soon, Adam felt as though he were being tested for tenderness. Then, a shock. Adam leapt up and shrieked his protests.  
  
   "Please... I'm bleeding," he begged, suddenly noticing a red stain right where he had been sitting, "See?"  
  
   Brows furrowed, David examined the mark and commanded Adam to clean it. Because he did not know where the cleaning supplies were, he just stared in response. David, rolling his blue eyes, led Adam by his arm. He swung an unlocked cabinet open.  
  
   "Why's that unlocked?" Adam asked, confused.  
  
   David glared up at Adam, hissing, "Excuse me?"  
  
   "You lock up anything I can use to break a window or pick a lock, but I could poison you with any of those chemicals. Why are those open?"  
  
   Dauntingly, David arose, obviously inflamed, and growled, "Because they are. Don't you fucking take this anywhere else. If you turn on me, try to hurt me, even try..." David trailed off even though his volume had been rising throughout his threat. He walked away with a huff, muttering,"Can't even enjoy my fucking movie now. Get your ass in the bedroom when you're done."  
  
   "I told you, I-" Adam was cut off without patience.  
  
   "And I told you to be in the bedroom! I was going to let you heal up and maybe give a shit that you might get infected! Now, fuck it. You can rot from the inside-out for all I care!" David finally left Adam alone.  
  
   Adam fell to sobbing pieces for what felt like the hundredth time. Now, he definitely noticed the blood loss. He forced himself to stay awake, as his body felt too exhausted to even pass out again. There would be another spot on the floor for him to clean as he sat there, but he just noticed more time for him to avoid David.  
  
   "Why?" he asked to no one, "Why, God, why is this hap-" Suddenly he remembered; His father always told him God didn't listen to sinners.  
  
   However, his mind was ready to do what God wouldn't. There was a way to escape without murder. One spray of and killer when David is heading out could be the key to Adam's very survival. All he needed was an opportunity. David shouted something from the bedroom, though it to slurred and run together for Adam to make it out. He assumed it was just another threat to rush him along. He went to work on the stained sofa. As he scrubbed, he used it as a catharsis. It was almost symbolic for him. As he focused on removing the stain completely, his pain eased bit by bit. The pain never entirely faded, leaving a rusted outline. Tears rolled down his face as he scrubbed furiously, erratically trying to erase the stain on the floor as well.  
  
   "Get your ass in here, now!" Adam barely made out, despite the fact David's voice practically rattled the furniture.  
  
   He scurried like a startled meerkat. A stair actually caught his foot on the way, causing him to tumble and fall even more behind. With his ankle throbbing, he forced himself the rest of the way up the stairs. The shoes David had forced him to wear were now in his hands, having caused Adam to fall. David was obviously not happy with Adam when he finally arrived.  
  
   "C'mere," David slurred, signalling the empty side of the bed.  
  
   Adam obeyed, carefully laying down on his side. Painfully, he was shoved to his back. David dug out a pill from his collection and shoved it down Adam's throat. He stroked the lump in Adam's throat with a hand over the boy's mouth. A smirk crawled over David's lips as Adam's eyes glazed over with forced arousal. Pleasure was far from the word for what Adam felt at this moment. Fear, confusion, emotional strain and physical pain were all accurate. Anything else was purely biological. Adam wriggled as he tried to minimize the sensation as much as possible.  
  
   "What's wrong, slut?" David chuckled, "Don't like your treat?"  
  
   Adam whined and begged, "Please stop!"  
  
   David just rubbed himself through his jeans before taking them off. Adam hyperventilated as the predator came closer and closer. Soon, foggy blue eyes hovered inches against pure forest green. Adam shut his and braced himself for the white, hot stabbing. Still, nothing prepared him enough to hold in a scream of agony.  
  
   "Nicole was really right," Adam thought, "This shouldn't be far off from being fucked with a knife."  
  
   Strangely enough, the worst pain was actually in the climax. Adam pulled his knees together in shame. Chapped and scruffy lips seemed to try to burrow into Adam's brain through his scalp as he cried into his knees. The songs didn't lie to him, but he honestly preferred the lie. There was no way any escape would happen soon.


	3. Have You Seen Me?

A week had passed. Adam had suffered through seven days of this pain and mental toying. As much as he tried to be obedient, it was getting harder by the day. Anything, it seemed, could set Adam off. Speaking too much, not speaking at all, breaking plates, and even just flinching were somehow punishable offenses. Here is an example of one such incident, which was still a fresh wound in Adam's mind.

He was filling the washer with David's clothes as well as some other girly ones; other victims, he presumed. The room reeked of body odor. This scent flooded Adam's nostrils and bubbled in his throat. Once again, David had the boy in ridiculously tall heels. In the dirty mirror behind him, Adam could tell his lipgloss was becoming sloppy and uneven. He did use his index finger, the nail painted a bright red, to tame the splotch of makeup on his mouth. After he accidentally smeared enough to reveal a part of his pink, now chapped and bloodied, lips. he smacked his lips together and frowned. Even if his hands were steady, Adam couldn't see straight if he tried. On top of his usual aches and pains, David didn't feel like sleeping the night before. Thus, Adam wasn't allowed to sleep either. It was no wonder what happened when Adam's ankle slipped, shooting pain up from his legs to his spine. He couldn't resist passing out as soon as his head hit the tile. Laundry soap splashed everywhere. The cheap white powder was strewn from the cabinets, to the sink, to all over Adam.

Once Adam was found with the mess surrounding him, it was over. David was "kind" enough to wait for Adam to wake up on his own before beginning his tirade. That didn't mean he considered any of Adam's pain. As usual, it was all Adam's fault. As David put it, he was a fucking clumsy, useless, and worthless. This was hard for Adam to hear over the sound of his skull cracking against the hard tile. Once the ordeal was done, Adam didn't even want to risk the pressure on his strained neck to stand up. David finished the laundry, but he was not happy about it.

Along with the pain purposely inflicted on him, Adam had to live with David's ways and habits. Any time his day hadn't gone well, some loud grunge music would vibrate the small house while David was locked inside his small room, raging. One would think this moment of separation would be a blessing to the young victim, but this was not the case. He would be forced to wait for one of two outcomes, David plops back down on the couch in front of a literal horror movie or he forces Adam into one, using all of his anger to inflict as much pain as possible. All the while waiting, Adam could only clean and choke on his fear. Eventually, no matter the outcome, hands were on his waist. This was the moment when Adam would learn his fate. Every-so-often, Adam could pretend and enjoy the moment. David would, occasionally, just wrap his arms around the teen's frail body and kiss into his neck. For just one second, Adam could imagine being loved. Then, David would either abuse him or go on ignoring him for however long he felt like; minutes; hours; even, once, an entire day.

Adam didn't know what happened, but David came home and he was fuming. Adam braced himself for a sudden blow to his side or a kick to his ankle hard enough to throw him to the floor. Nothing happened. Not even an insulting comment was muttered. David just went to his room and let some Nine Inch Nails chaos boom from inside his bedroom and rattled inside Adam's brain. He was surprised he could focus on his cleaning. Especially this one spot that wouldn't seem to ever lift. His shoulder was already getting sore from the endless scrubbing. Unlike most days, nothing happened when David left. his room. He didn't even stop to leer at Adam's form as he cleaned. This seemed to be a relief until it didn't stop.

At one point, Adam even forced himself to fearfully inquire, "Is it getting better?" only to be met with silence.

There wasn't even the sharp noise of David backhanding his mouth. It was already approaching morning. He had been allowed that waist-gripping kiss, but otherwise he was forced to sleep back in the room he had awoken in that first day with David. David had left just after he woke up at noon and stayed out until midnight. In other words, David was trapped inside of the rotting house and his own mind for round-about twelve hours, at the very least.

With these hours, Adam wasn't entirely dismayed, though this was mostly the case. Still, he learned a lot he was afraid to ask. For example, a set of polaroids sat upon his desk, a collection of tissues on top of the stack.

At first, Adam cringed at what he assumed to be a disgusting mess. Instead, the tissues he'd picked up were only slightly stiff from mucus. They also had small markings indicating tear-stains. With a shaking hand, Adam picked up the photos under the tissues.

David stared back from the photo, but it wasn't quite David. The model was nearly identical, only more feminine. He cheekily revealed his stomach through the same "Pretty Boy" top Adam had been forced to wear. Although the makeup was neat and covered fairly well, a black eye was still barely visible. Still, the person appeared to be consenting, gleeful even. There was, however, a look almost like a deer seeing a human for the first time, wondering if it will feed or shoot the poor creature. Like a fifties sitcom hiding the imperfections of its time, pillows were propped to hide anything inside the headboard or shelves.

On the next, there were two "Davids". The David Adam knew was sprawled on top of the more feminine one. One might have felt sick making Adam's discovery; David has a twin, and they were close. Adam kept sorting through to see what became of the other Ericson, but only found a photo more aggressive than the others.

The twin was being held down so that makeup smeared onto the bedding. David's knuckles were a ghostly white and his fingers were tangled in the other Ericson's sweat-soaked hair down to the roots. Even worse than the black tears streaming down his face, the misshapen blob around his lips that used to be lipstick showed lips that were near mutilation, covered in splits and gashes.

With these photos, Adam had an idea. He picked the most flattering image and began searching through the clothes David had for him, each article making an appearance in at least one photo. The twin's purple and blue tye-dye shirt was loose and short, like everything else. The baggy shorts that tied at the waist fit perfectly. The makeup was slightly more difficult to replicate, the twin obviously being more experienced than Adam. Still, he tried his best to use the various sponges and products. In the end, the uneven eyeshadow and displaced mascara made him look like a dollar store version of the person in David's photograph. He sighed and took out the cell phone David left for him, smiling brightly at the camera.

At the bar, David felt a vibration in his pocket. He grinned until he saw the image attached to the text. There it was. That feeling that burned through his heart and shook his limbs, that made his jaw tight as a vice; that's the feeling this image gave him. David loathed it with a passion.

Unconsciously, he groaned, "Oh, Phillie," before burying his head in the bar.

"Havin' a bad day, sugar?" someone asked beside him in a faux feminine voice.

David looked up with a stoic face, "Yeah, how much?"

"Excuse me?" the stranger asked.

"I know you're a whore, so how much to get that ass in a bathroom stall?"

"My name's Cindy, by the way," she declared passive-aggressively, "but it's fifty bucks for a blowie."

And then, David had an outlet for that parasitic feeling. Practically throwing the money, he took Cindy by her thin arm to the dirty bathroom, away from the loud bar music. The stall door slammed shut as David pressed against it. Cindy found herself on her knees, not unusual. It went on the way Cindy expected until  David began forcing her head down.

Cindy pulled away, exclaiming, "I'm not into that!"

"I paid for this, didn't I?" David snarled sadistically.

Cindy bit down when David pulled him back. She frantically tried to push out past David, even throwing some punches. David was still able to trap her in the tight space. He clapped a hand over Cindy’s mouth. Without another word, David went through with forcing himself onto Cindy. All control was lost for both parties, really. He choked the suffering worker until he realized that he'd gone too far. He'd created another body without a cleanup plan.

"I really need to start bringing ammonia," he thought, tossing Cindy's stiff body over his shoulder. He stepped out of the stall to find somebody had entered the bathroom, "We got a little wild," he lied, avoiding any contact with the other person.

His car swerved off at a dangerous speed. Car horns and lights created white noise that made his skull throb. He eventually had to pull over to hang his head out of the car. As his guts churned and boiled, the cool air felt like heaven. He'd caught just a glimpse of the intruder on the bathroom, but he swore he saw Phillip. Wiping his mouth sloppily, he passed it off as another hallucination and took a few of his miscellaneous "downers". They didn't do much, but he had a task to finish anyway.

David looted the pockets first. He pulled a wallet from "Cindy's" shorts. The credit cards, gift cards, and other dollar bills all found their way into David's possession. The driver's license read "Celeb Quinn". He slammed the leather wallet shut before he could find any more of this person's identity. Then, he found the phone.

"Don't do it," David thought.

Still, he turned the screen on to see the wallpaper. It was locked with a pin, but he didn't want to figure it out. The image of the sickly little boy in a hospital bed with a tube in his nose was enough. He pulled the shovel out from his truck and began digging a grave for Celeb's body. It didn't take long for the pills to start working after the digging began. David forced himself to stay awake through foggy vision and drooping eyelids. His arms felt like two heavy weights once he was six-feet deep in the ground. He strained to pull himself out to find a garbage bag so he could finish disposing of the corpse, as much as he could. Every lump of dirt being put back into the grave felt like a mountain on the shovel.

At first, he thought for sure he’d swerve off the road if he drove back home. Then, when he went to start the truck, he realized that couldn't even happen. He turned the key only to have the truck sputter at him. David buried his head in his hands against the steering wheel.

"Fuck," he muttered, then screamed out again.

The door swung open and David opened the hood. Enough smoke came out for David to know it was done for the night. He shouted obscenities into the distance before making his way to the road on foot. It took hours for him to get a ride.

"God, help me from killing another one," he thought, ignoring the driver's jabber.

This brings us to a full circle. David honestly was still processing what Adam had sent him. For once his human side spoke up, knowing Adam hadn't meant anything by it. Still, David couldn't ignore the audacity of the teenager. He could, however, ignore the teenager himself, and he did. He went to find the photographs of Philip only to find they had been moved. Panic and rage arose in his heart until he opened the top drawer of his nightstand. There they were, neatly and carefully stacked. His favorite sat on top, with his brother in that purple tie-dye and those shorts, a raven black wig and bright red lipstick to go with the outfit.

"Just before it all went to shit," he thought, running a finger over the photo.

Remembering his plans for Adam, he threw on his music to drown out the emotions. He didn't throw things or scream. He just let his eardrums explode with the angsty screaming music. He emerged from the room with a decision. He knew he was getting too close to his victim. It was getting harder and harder to dehumanize Adam. Every other one fought him, lashed out, or was just blatantly throwing themselves at him. Adam was the first to actually seem to analyze his actions. Nobody had shown genuine care, except for Adam. David knew, deep down, that it wasn't fair. That's why he wrapped his arms around Adam's waist with a delicate kiss.

"You'll be out of your naive misery tomorrow," he thought unable to actually speak.

An alert popped up on Celeb's phone, which was still in David's pocket. It was a text asking "Where are you?" David shut the phone off and went to work destroying it and preparing to find a way to get rid of the truck left at the burial scene. David was losing time.


	4. Mean

The next morning,  David woke up just after the sun rose. Everything was ready on the headboard; chloroform, a cloth, and duct tape. The first thing he did was pull out a bag of white powder and made a line on his nightstand, snorting it through a short straw. With the rush he gained from the drug, he splashed the chloroform onto the rag until it practically dripped with the chemical. He held onto the duct tape desperately with one hand while holding the rag in his other as he entered the tattered room which he had force Adam to sleep in the previous night.   
“Don’t fight it,” David whispered, “It’ll be over if you just let it happen.”   
Adam’s frail arms flailed out to try to get David to get off of him. His lips were sealed and he tried to keep from breathing. David just shoved down harder,  forcing pressure onto Adam’s chest. Eventually, Adam had to take in some air. David slowly released his tension on Adam, who now laid limp. David pried a strip of duct tape from the roll and began to bind the boy's ankles. He did the same to Adam’s wrists. A final strip was torn to cover the seventeen year old's mouth and then Adam was silenced and bound for the murderer. Then, David took his victim out to the decent sized shed in his backyard and cut his wrists free just to secure them in shackles connected to the ceiling.   
Adam awoke groggily, moaning in fear through the duct tape. At first, his eyes couldn’t focus enough to see the various knives, whips, and other torture implements around him. He could smell the stench of blood and death, though. His stomach churned as he already grew uneasy about the setting. His eyelids crushed together, but he still saw nothing but blobs and spots.   
“It’ll wear off in a little while. Just relax till then, you’re useless until you’re coherent,” David rasped, fiddling with the objects on the table.   
Out of desperation, Adam pulled against the rusted chains holding him in place. He only lacerated his wrists. The duct tape was the only thing keeping him from hissing when a long, red trail sprouted from his wrists to his elbows. It made him all the more aware of his impending fate. He fought the nausea rising in his throat. Tears and mucus mixed on his face as David approached. Then, he noticed those emotions in David’s eyes again.   
The older man went around the boy, gripping his pale throat hard and pressing the thin body to his own before muttering, “God damn it.”   
“Remorse?” Adam thought, “But why now?”   
In truth, it almost made the redhead angry. After all the pain, after all the torture for following directions wrong or too slow, and now Adam was finally receiving sympathy for nothing at all except hanging there like a chandelier. This anger boiled Adam over the edge and he screamed out. David smiled and picked up the largest bullwhip.   
“Lemme guess, ‘just get it over with?’” David taunted before ripping the tape from Adam's mouth.   
“No, I don’t deserve this!” Adam screamed, causing David some surprise. “Just tell me why you do this, please,” he whimpered, “I need to understand.”   
“Understand?” David barked in response, “I’m a serial killer, there’s nothing to understand! I just killed someone last fucking night.”   
“John Wayne Gacy was bullied by his father,” Adam explained, “The Toybox Killer was too. Ted Bundy… his past is so twisted. He thought his mother was his sister for half his life. What happened to make you this? Please tell me, if you're going to kill me.”   
David stopped, giving Adam some hope. Then, he turned his attention to a roll of barbed wire. Quickly putting on a pair of leather gloves, he unraveled the sharp cords. Bile began bubbling up Adam’s digestive system from the pain of the material digging into the corners of his mouth. The pain intensified when David twisted the ends together tightly behind Adam's neck. Adam began hopping and twisting in his chains. He was once again blind with tears.   
“Not again,” David growled, “When I let ‘em live, that's where problems start.” David picked up the largest bull whip from the wall and flicked it hard enough to cause Adam to bleed instantly before continuing, “When I let my guard down,” the whip struck again as he spoke, “when I actually feel something for you twisted fucking things,” the frequency of the strokes increased, making Adam's flesh more like hamburger meat.   
By the time it was over, Adam's mouth was torn at least an inch wider. His voice was shattering with cries. The joints in his shoulders ached as though they’d snapped. David stepped around his body and continued slashing so that Adam's back was as mutilated as his front. Muffled pleas filled the dim room. David dropped the bloody whip. He began raving to himself, though Adam was not aware of this.   
“It’s all your fault,” David whispered wrathfully, wrestling his oily, greying brown hair in his fingers.   
His next weapon of choice was actually a few items following a similar sinister theme; a stun gun, a cattle prod, a Taser, and a restraint that would spread Adam far apart in an utterly demeaning fashion. The electric shocks sent tremors through the teen's frail body. The painful sensation faded only to target his tragically visible ribs. When David pulled the stun gun away, there was a black spot left in its wake. It struck again, like a cobra, on his inner thigh. Even if his muscles would stop spasming for just a moment, Adam was defenseless. All he could do was hope this madman would not slowly cook him alive. The current spread to the wire that was mutilating Adam's lips, causing them even more pain. Adam felt wetness between his legs. He looked down at the developing urine puddle in shame and let out a huff of humiliation.   
David stared curiously, more than the objectifying look of approval Adam had predicted. He stepped forward, still holding the stun gun.  The older man stepped back and ran a finger over Adam’s delicate face. The stun gun was replaced with the cattle prod. David’s fingers forcefully pried Adam open for the cattle prod.   
The sour, acidic taste in Adam's throat combined with the stickiness between his legs and wetness from blood and tears were practically driving Adam mad with disgust. None of it compared to the smell. There was what Adam had brought in; sweat, grime, and bodily fluids. Then, there was death. Rotten blood smells far worse than if it were fresh. Obvious from the aroma, several others had the same bodily reactions to David's torture as Adam and then some.   
The boy couldn’t take it anymore. Vomit seared the wounds surrounding his mouth. Adam felt as though he were drowning. The pressure building in his head was unbearable. David pressed the button to send bolts of pure pain up Adam’s spine. Red locks thrashed and tossed around Adam's head as it turned back and forth frantically.   
David's hand held onto the button of the cattle prod as long as it could while the other absorbed the volts from the flesh of Adam's shoulder. The burn of it was something David had usually looked forward to. To him, the most superb feeling in the world was immersing himself fully in another's pain. Rather, though, his jaw clenched in agony. A grunt escaped his mouth. It actually surprised both the abuser and abusee.  
The cattle prod pulled out with a grotesque slippery noise. Adam was far too small not to be torn by the implement. His groans and screams,  only quieted by the fact he couldn’t fully open his mouth, were definitely loud enough to be heard outside the shack.   
Now, David returned with the third device; the Taser. This time, he was behind Adam. He prepared to shoot, then the tiny darts shot into Adam’s leaking back, which was losing color. The white canvas, painted with sickening red, black, and blue tightened with the volts coming from the hooks. David released the button. No longer was Adam sobbing. He only sucked in breaths of air as quickly as he could, while he could. He could not take in any more of those breaths as David activated the Taser again.  Adam’s palms bled because Adam’s nails were clawing into them.   
After the second shock, David hesitated. One shouldn’t be so deceived as to think his finger wasn’t tense over the button. The problem wasn’t that he was not ready. David had imagined far worse to prepare himself for this moment. Still, his hand shook at the thought of sending even more electricity through Adam's veins. The now motionless teenager heard David stalk forward. He didn’t even react when. David placed his hands on Adam’s sides. David almost tenderly made his way to the barbs in Adam’s back, plucking them out quickly. A crackling, barely human groan of relief pushed out of Adam's throat as David massaged the two marks left by the Taser. Eventually, David’s hands grazed every wound on Adam’s body. His eyes analyzed Adam’s disfigured face. He was actually unbearably repulsed by the sight. Again, he caressed Adam’s face, stopping carefully at the gashes left by stray whip lashes.   
_“That barbed wire has to go,”_ David thought, returning to the wooden table of instruments.   
He picked up some large wire cutters, covered in rust. They sent anxiety rushing through Adam's mind when he saw them. He closed his eyes and pushed back on his bare heels, forcing splinters into his soles. He wasn’t quite giving up.  He couldn’t deny that touch of humanity he'd seen in David every so often. It had to be more than nothing. Still, He was dying for some rest from all this. Adam didn’t know it, but David was painfully aware of how literal this phrase was. David cut the wire around Adam’s, mouth, nearly causing Adam to sob in relief.   
Instead, Adam took this moment to scream, “Stop!” in a gravely, pitiful voice.   
“I can’t!” David screamed back. “I’m sorry, I can’t.  You will be fucking ruined if I stop. You’ll do this to someone else or you’ll just be driven fucking insane. Trust me, this will all be over soon.”   
“No!” Adam cried. I know you’ve been hurt. You’ve probably hurt yourself. Still, you can stop it. Just get something stable…something okay.”   
David turned away from Adam and returned to his table. He located a needle and some thread. It nearly took him five minutes just to thread the needle. Then, he came back to Adam and pressed the torn pieces of Adam's mouth together. Adam started writhing again until David forced him to hold still.   
“I’m fixing it, not sewing the whole thing,” he explained.   
With that, Adam relaxed. He twitched as the needle went through, but was otherwise still and silent. Adam became lost in David’s eyes, as they weren’t as clear as most. His, his seemed to be chaotic, screaming white noise. Adam winced when David had to pull to finish off the stitching. The sloppy pattern was repeated on the other corner of Adam's mouth. Tears stung in the sealed wounds as David stroked them under his thumbs. The taste of iron leaked into David’s mouth as he placed a kiss on Adam’s red, cracked lips. They were still on David’s contact; Not reciprocating nor rejecting David, just motionless aside from shaking.   
David’s hands clenched in Adam’s sweaty, red hair and hissed, “It has to be done.”   
He revisited the table for a gun as well as the keys to Adam’s restraints. The boy’s stomach dropped. His head shook slowly.   
“No,” he whispered, “I don’t want to die.”   
“Why?” David demanded, “Haven‘t I done enough? Hasn’t the fucking world done enough?”   
“It doesn’t matter,” Adam insisted, staring at the gun.   
When the chains were finally unlocked, Adam fell onto the floor limp as a corpse. His back moved quickly as he hyperventilated. David forced the teenager on his back and looked down on the suffering boy. The glaze of shock from the blood loss coated Adam's once clear green eyes. It caused earthquakes in Adam’s stomach. He squatted down to look closer at Adam. His hands rubbed the lanky male’s shoulder comfortingly.   
“I told you, it's going to be over,” David grunted through gritted teeth. “Just a few more things… a little more pain… and we can be fucking done.”   
Adam shook his head side to side, begging, “Please, please, please…” over and over again.   
David forced himself on top of Adam, undressing from the waist down. He pressed into his victim, who only creaked in his discomfort. David’s starting speed was far too much for Adam to process. His brain could hardly handle the movement of a snail at this point. What David had done was causing Adam's brain to throb and ache from the agonizing sensations. Really, David was only at this ripping, brutal speed to keep himself stimulated.   
_“You just need a minute,”_ he thought, _“You’ll like it again soon.”_   
David wasn’t used to being the one needing this message. His routine was to laugh this statement into his prey's ear as he assaulted them. With every other before Adam, David took joy and twisted pride in torturing and breaking those he deemed weak. Now, it took every ounce of effort in him to keep up his torment. In an attempt to bring back that sadistic enjoyment, David wrapped his hands around Adam's throat.   
Adam was horrified. His mind flashed back to that first awful night with David. It was like his first time being raped, but worse. In every inch, nerve, and fiber of Adam’s body, he felt excruciating pain. Grime was rubbing into his cuts, caused by the whipping delivered by David. Adam could practically feel infection coming from the wooden floor. Not only that, splinters lodged into his flesh and muscles. What should gave only been tiny pinpricks of pain was exaggerated to the stinging of millions of small darts coated with lemon juice. Adam was silent as his body quaked with David’s painful movements. Only shaky, injured gasps leaked from his lungs when his throat was released.   
David shook his head,  brushing him unwashed hair on Adam’s face. The scent of the locks sickened Adam again, but he had nothing left to regurgitate. Then, David held any noises whatsoever inside with his hand. The only choice was for Adam to keep his feelings in his stomach.  David’s last resort was to shut his eyes tightly. He let out an animalistic roar that bled into a wailing sob.   
“Get up,” David panted. “Get up now!”   
“I can't,” Adam rasped. “I-I can’t stand, I can’t…”   
David shoved Adam to his knees, which still caused black to surround Adam’s already blurred vision. It closed in and caused Adam to fall. Blood began to drip from Adam’s mouth as David kicked him in the stomach,  chest, and sides over and over. He retrieved a gag with a ring to hold Adam’s mouth open. As soon as Adam noticed David had the gun again, he started slithering away again. It was easy for David to catch up and pry Adam’s small mouth open. He shoved Adam against a panel wall and inserted the pistol into the boy's mouth.   
Adam’s eyes still shined with fear. The gun rattled against Adam’s teeth. Suddenly, the handgun was lowered.  Adam let out a breath of contentment. He flinched when David stepped closer to his debilitated form. The older man only removed the gag, which eased the developing soreness in Adam's jaw. He then lifted the weakened redhead like an infant to his vehicle.   
The gas pedal was crushed under David’s feet. His watering eyes switched back and forth from the road to Adam in the back seat. The only thing he could note from looking at the teenager was the paper white tone of his body and the blue tint that was only somewhat visible with the blood nearly covering his lips entirely.   
The beat up truck nearly crashed into parking. He felt Adam’s chest and pulse before yanking the boy from the car. He was out cold. David hauled Adam back into the house, hurriedly throwing him on the kitchen table. David made his way upstairs to his bathroom to find the tools to suture Adam’s wounds. As he hurried back downstairs, he was halfway between hoping Adam had bled to death and begging for him to pull through. Adam’s chest was still moving lightly. David thought a moment and decided to get a syringe from his room and fill it with some sedative from a bottle on his headboard. Although he had to lean against the table for balance, David was still able to push the shaking needle into one of Adam’s veins.   
Once the medication had time to take effect, David began stitching together Adam’s skin. He started with the cuts that were bleeding the worst. Those were sewn crudely due to David’s speed. The rest, David put as much effort into undoing his mess on Adam’s body as much as possible. He had to get more thread a few times throughout the procedure. His fingers ached as he pressed together and tailored each and every tear.   
Looking over his work, David took Adam to his bedroom. He laid the boy down on the bed and brushed his autumn hair down and flat around Adam’s face. Then, he stiffly took the place beside the unconscious teen and made an attempt at cuddling. His arm was a bit softer and higher on Adam's hip. He noticed the filth and blood on Adam's body. Even if the boy’s injuries wouldn’t be infected, the sick man just knew it wasn’t right.   
As he bathed Adam, David tried to keep water off his freckled face by pushing it to the ugly green tile wall. The man grimaced at the scars that reminded him of his past abuses. Tiny, white dashes showed evidence of the bath David had given him on his first day. There were more markings from beatings to Adam's face on his lips and showing through his light brows. David wanted to wash them all away. Still, he paid close attention to the intensity of his movements, keeping soaping from being scrubbing. The water was almost an entirely solid color from the mess.   
Adam gasped back to consciousness. His eyes went wide as he took in the setting around him. The plus side, he was alive and not being prepared for disposal. Not so positive, he was uncovered and vulnerable, and he was being felt up by the same man who’d just been trying to kill him.   
_“It’s no different than before,”_ he thought. Then, he said out loud, “I’ll do anything,” barely audible. David’s gaze snapped to Adam’s face, “I’ll be an angel for you. I’ll be your slave. Just let me live… please.”   
David cocked his head, then dipped the rag into the bathwater. The soap on the rag was mostly being occupied by the germs on the washcloth. David realized a bath wouldn’t accomplish anything. At the same time, Adam was in no condition to stand for a shower.   
David chose his next move by asking, “Why’d you take that picture?”   
“Because,” Adam gasped in defense, “you told me to!”   
“I didn’t tell you to take pictures like my fucking twin, I told you to model. Don’t tell me it was a God damn coincidence, my pictures were not where I left them,” David growled, sending shivers up Adam’s tingling spine.   
“They were there when I was cleaning,” Adam explained. “I put them away, but it seemed like you really liked one I thought you'd like if I…”   
As the boy trailed off, David put out a hand, “We’re going to need to do a shower here. Take it slow.”   
Adam really had no choice but to “take it slow,” putting  one hand on the older man's shoulder while the other one grasped desperately at David’s. His legs shook like birch trees in a windstorm.   
When the time came, Adam was more than happy to let David carry him. The ginger was laid on the bed and dressed in normal clothes that would fit him; some silky, mint green pajamas. As David pressed to the pained, abused bird, who turned to face him. He didn’t want to change David’s behavior, bring back the rabies, so Adam didn’t mention the weight of David’s arms alone was nearly suffocating him.   
All he said was a light “thank you” before placing a pitiful peck on his captor’s lips.


	5. Dahmer and the Limbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, bad news and good news. The bad news is, I am a horrible author and I have no excuse to have waited this long to edit and publish. Sorry about that, especially if you happen to be any of the readers who liked my post on IG about the chapter. The good news is A. it is posted, edited, AND in the right format! B. I have a new Youtube list of songs for the story. If anyone has a song they would like to be added, go ahead and comment the artist's name and the title of the song down below and I will check it out.  
> 

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiSFPN37hhE&list=PLJKdn0UxBXud4MbLXwDeWaZRfIgsUfvRO](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiSFPN37hhE&list=PLJKdn0UxBXud4MbLXwDeWaZRfIgsUfvRO)

 

 

          When the sun rose, Adam wasn’t quite sure if he'd dreamed the events of the night before or if he was just losing his mind. Either way, he was sure something had gone wrong on his end. He did feel the pain of the pressure on his wounds from the bed, so he knew the torture had been real. Then, a nightmarish scenario came to his mind: he was in Hell. His radical parents were right and God had damned him to an eternity of David’s imprisonment for his perversion. David had put him in shock, bringing about hallucinations of comfort and healing, and that's what ended the teenager’s seventeen-going-on-eighteen years of life.

          “That’s not what I meant when I said I'd be an angel,” he thought, struggling to sit up.

          To Adam's horror, David was standing in the doorway. This caused Adam to push as far as he could against the headboard. David just watched the young man's reaction sorely. He made careful, intentional steps towards Adam who, as expected, continued evading these steps. Adam was so fearful, he didn’t realize he was too weak to stand and run. Though Adam braced for David to pick him up by the scruff like a puppy, David was as gentle as he was in Adam's recollections. The traumatized teen was still too nervous to do more than subtly cling to the man carrying him. David had to brush the loosely clenched fists away as he sat Adam back on the bed.

          “I would’ve taken you to your room, but that seemed like it would be harsh. The living room's trashed. This was the best place to leave you.” When he noticed Adam's eyes searching the sheets for bloody spots, David continued, “I slept in the other room a little after you crashed out and I could trust you’d pull through the night.”

          “Thank you, sir,” Adam said almost on instinct.

          David’s face scrunched at this phrase, “Don’t say that.”

          Both of them fell silent and avoided all eye contact. Adam’s legs stretched out on the plain, disorganized bedding.  His legs still crossed tightly at the knees and his arms hid the parts of his body above the blankets. Despite this, he was mostly more relaxed in his posture.

          “Am I dead?” Adam finally asked.

          “What?” David questioned, caught off-guard. “Oh. No, Adam. You're alive. I made damn sure of that.”

          David almost allowed his hand to wander up Adam's covered leg, but stopped when he remembered his intimidating position. It upset David especially when the top leg twitched before his hand even made contact. Adam's eyes were cast downwards. The older man meandered away, to the downstairs kitchen. The fridge only contained rotten vegetables and David’s beer, he observed. There was also two eggs, which David was saving. He took the eggs and milk, as well as some flour and sugar, useful for other purposes. Butter was missing, so David took another look at his incredibly limited options and found some loose oatmeal packets. They were all either banana or strawberry.

          “Maybe he'll like ‘em too,” David pondered.

          And so, David tossed in a packet of each flavor to make a large portion for the boy upstairs. Only the flour was discarded to the pantry. The milk left was only enough to make the oatmeal into a thick paste, so he turned on the faucet quickly to make up for the rest. This breakfast was certainly far more edible than the kibble David had been feeding Adam before.

          As he sprinkled a final touch of sugar over the bowl, the usually bitter man smiled. He set the dish down on the table before strutting back up the stairs. Somehow, he felt that this small deed would heal the misery he'd caused to Adam. Well, at least some of it. He even flashed an attempted friendly smile as he entered the bedroom, which was hindered by his yellow and decaying teeth showing.

          “Hey, Adam,” he started, “I made you some breakfast, but I wanted to check with you about the drink situation. You don't seem like a drinker to me, but it's either beer or water. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted a bottle or ten.”

          Adam shook his head, “No, I just want water and some food!” Adam snapped. “I’m sorry,” Adam whimpered on, “I mean… Can you please hurry a bit with the food?  Please? I'm starving.”

          David, against Adam's expectations, smirked lightheartedly both at Adam's slip and the boy's reaction before answering, “Absolutely. Water it is.”

          As David left the room, Adam gave standing another attempt. With the bed serving as leverage,  Adam found himself standing strong. Once he let go, however, his legs were clumsy as Bambie's. Adam couldn’t help but wonder exactly how much blood he'd lost the previous night. There was eventually some direction to his wobble. Adam took a look at himself in the large mirror attached to the sliding closet door and was appalled by the image in front of him. The young man's fingers trembled as he felt over the cuts from his face to his torso. He couldn’t peel his gaze away from the slices around his mouth, so his fingernails nudged the edges of the scabs. Many of the nails, Adam noticed, were split and broken. Suddenly he tasted the bitter flavor in his mouth that made him run for the bathroom to wash it out. Even when the taste washed away, he kept shoving handfuls off the tap water down his throat.

          Adam choked when David opened the door behind him and said, “If you come to the kitchen, you can drink that from a glass.”

          Adam nodded, throwing on a robe from the back of the door. The boy followed David out of the room to sit at the plain, empty table. The only thing filling the wooden space was the porcelain bowl with a spoon and cup beside it. Because the oatmeal was left to cool for so long, Adam was able to eat it one spoonful after another. He kept going until he became cautious.

          “Is it drugged? Poisoned?” he inquired nervously.

          David shook his head and said, “No. You’re not my slave, so I’m not doing that shit to you anymore. I mean that, Adam.” Adam continued eating without a word, so David continued to beg, “You believe me, don't you? I wouldn’t lie to you.”

          Adam continued chewing,  though most of it was just stalling. He could tell David was repressing his anger when Adam scooped up another bite. The food was delicious to Adam, and he appreciated it. Still, he had no trust for the man sitting in front of him. Even when David put on a smile that made him appear like a whole new person, Adam was uneasy.

          The boy finally answered, “I believe you are trying to change. I don't believe you have.” David's face fell as Adam went on, “Even if you did, it would take a big change for me not to think you could snap again. Most men like you do.”

          After this personal declaration, neither person spoke. When the groan of Adam's chair reached David's ears, indicating Adam had finished, the man turned his eyes to Adam's hands holding the dishes and grasped one dainty wrist. Instead,  David clanked the dishes to the sink himself. The sink, he noticed, was still bloody. The sight even left David with an emotional flashback, meaning it would most likely deliver even more stress to Adam. Once the bowl and spoon were clean of goo, he began scrubbing the ceramic. Eventually, he had to move on to bleach to finish the job completely.

          He turned and suggested, “Do you wanna get dressed? Phillip had normal clothes, too… or you could wear skirts, whatever.”

          “Are you going to come with me?” Adam asked nervously.

          “I thought I'd give you privacy,” David explained. “Unless you need help?”

          “Only to get up the stairs. You put me through a lot last night, and it still hurts,” the young man admitted.

          David leaned back and started sipping on a cigarette. All he did was hold up a finger and waved it to the glowing stick in his mouth to answer. Adam understood it would be a wait, so he took a seat. Three or four minutes passed and David pressed the cigarette butt to his wrist. It was flicked to the trash can in the corner of the room.

          “Let’s go,” he instructed.

          Adam stood and limped towards the stairs with David. He felt somewhat safer when David moved directly behind him and loosely held the boy's hand. Adam's other hand grasped the unpolished railing like a vice. One step was too low, causing Adam to trip. David yanked him backwards. Being laid against the stronger man, anxiety began to pound in Adam’s chest. Reality came back to him when David leaned him back to balance like a falling vase. Both of Adam’s hands gripped the railing. The flat ground at the top seemed so close, yet so far from Adam.

          “I’m really not going to hurt you,” David insisted.

          “David,” Adam almost barked, “stop saying that.”

          At last, Adam reached the stable top of the stairs. He said nothing as he trudged towards the bedroom. The discolored carpet was sticky under his bare feet. Adam closed the bedroom door and turning the lock, juggling the knob to test it. With a deep breath, he opened the small yet stuffed closet. He sorted through it a bit. It didn’t take long for him to choose a deep green sweater and a pair of jeans, despite the heat. A delicate, pink gloss was taken from Phillip’s collection to the bathroom. Soon Adam realized that before he could do anything, he had to clean this room.

         Meanwhile, David was popping off the cap to a bottle when a thud hit his ceiling. He rushed back to the bedroom, slamming into the door. When he confirmed his cluttered room was empty, he checked the bathroom. Adam’s head hung limply over the inch-deep pool of bleach. David quickly yanked Adam up and washed away the bleach on his hands. Confirming that there was no sores in the boy's mouth and that his breathing was normal, David took Adam to lay back on his bed. David was surprised he hadn't passed out from the fumes as he finished the job of cleaning the restroom. He pulled the tub's plug and turned on the faucet. Once it was back to an ugly, pastel green color, David went on to make the mirror usable with hot water and a cloth.

          In the now polished mirror, the middle-aged man loathed his appearance. Purple circles made his eyes look even more sunken than they were. His stubble was so desaturated and ungroomed, it made his already forty-five years of lines look more like fifty-five. The grease in his hair was so thick, David could almost milk it out in globs.

          “If everything’s clean, I might as well use this thing,” David thought.

          To say the least, Adam was shocked when David returned. The worn-looking man’s hair appeared abnormally soft. Though it was still untrimmed, it was now neatly combed and slicked. The man's sickly face was mostly bare, save only some uncharacteristic (and rather sloppy) concealer, making it look much healthier. Even his brows were plucked, giving him a much lighter expression.

          “Now will you tell me why you did those things?” Adam requested softly.

          David sighed, “I suppose. How much detail?”

          “All of it.”

          And so, David went on to tell the story:

          At one time,  David was essentially devoid of any of his present physical flaws and then some. For this reason, his employer, James Maguire, took interest in him. The Irishman was quite intimidating, contrary to his size. As a snuff film actor, David could choose his unwilling “costars”. His acts, however, were to be supervised and recorded. He chose to break this severely enforced rule, forcing himself onto not one girl, but a pair of twins. Maguire was furious when the pair sobbed their horrific story.

         As a consequence, both David and his twin brother were abducted and forced into Maguire’s slave ring. Although Phillip was the one put on display constantly, David was the punching bag. Phillip’s insides constantly ached and churned. David’s nose and mouth constantly bled. The only people who truly treated the pair with love at the time was each other.

         Everything changed the day Phillip started becoming sympathetic to their abuser. Then, Phillip was being given extra food, clothes that he chose to wear, and other privileges. It was obvious the frailer twin was the favorite. David, however, was becoming cold to his brother. At first, he only answered Phillip with as few words as possible or none at all. He’d refuse eye-contact and hog their covers. This suppressed anger soon grew to violence.

         All he did was ask one question, and that question stung David's ego like a strike from Maguire's hand. So, he kept returning the feeling to Phillip.  Even though the smaller twin still hadn’t lifted his head to make sense of the situation, David still straddled his chest. Despite the revealing clothing, David was tragically intimidating to Phillip. Twice more, David’s hand fell. The stronger one leaned inches close.

         “Maybe I can't stand looking at you because it feels like you love ‘Daddy’ more than you love me!”

         Just as he screamed this and raised a fist, the door snuck open. The prison-like exterior of this wing had never felt so pleasant to Phillip. Just as he hoped, their five-foot-tall owner loomed in the doorway. David turned his head to him wildly, looking through disheveled hair with clenched teeth. Hard, blue orbs turned back to the frightened ones on the floor. All muscles relaxed as Phillip was released.

         “Fuck,” David hissed. “I-I didn’t mean to, Daddy,  I swear. He just shook me up a bit.”

          Maguire's expression already voiced his disapproval at this explanation. His large, usually puppy-like eyes were more akin to a wolf's. He whistled for the “keeper-slave”. It took nothing for David to be wrangled. Friends and customers of Maguire's laughed in David’s face as he was paraded through the waiting room to the dungeon. Zachery, the one handling David slammed the offender to his knees and tied his arms high and tight.

          “Please!” David cried. “I only slapped him, I don’t need this! I'll control myself!”

          Maguire sighed, “Lovely. Why couldn’t you do that a few moments ago.” As David remained silent, Maguire rose a brow and challenged, “Well? Isn’t he your brother? Is he not, in your words, ‘the youngest, even at a fucking tie’?

          No answer was given as Maguire stalked off for an implement. There was no light offered in the room. Bulky, awkward goggles allowed Maguire to see and sneakily lash David around his back to his chest using his most vicious whip. The wound left behind bled instantly.

          “Suppose you did only slap him… except you did more,” Maguire scolded.

          He took aim again. The rope connecting David to the ceiling pulled even tighter. Maguire saw this as a sign of success. He struck again, mutilating David’s back further. This time, David let out a loud grunt of pain. Happy with the results of the punishment, Maguire continued lecturing.

          “You nearly stuck him again with a closed fist.” He wound up tightest for the final, hardest strike, snarling, “and you're his blood.”

          When the whip collided with David's bone, he could not even find it in him to scream. His lips stretched open without releasing a single sound. He began silently as Maguire backed away to admire his work. Chills went up David's spine as he heard the sound of bullets being loaded into a gun. The formally dressed man returned with a pistol. It shot just shy of David’s head, nearly grazing his temple.

          “And that is what he’ll feel every time you two are in the same room forever because of what you’ve done, betraying his trust,” Maguire hissed, finishing his tirade. “Now, I'm going to take care of Philly while Zachary takes you to have some alone time.”

          David gasped, “No, you can't keep him from me! He’ll be terrified!”

          “He’s terrified of you now, remember? The bruises you left will last all week.”

          “Bruises!” David exclaimed. “I didn’t leave any fucking bruises! I just wanted to scar-“

Maguire raised a groomed eyebrow at David’s sudden pause, “You wished to intimidate your own twin. Don't worry, though. My friends and I will make sure he’s not so afraid of you. He provoked this, did he not?”

         “No,” David confessed with a sinking heart. “He didn’t do anything. Just take me to your room. You can cut out my fucking guts, anything. Just keep him away from Hopper!”

         Back in the present, Adam asked, “Who’s Hopper?”

         “A fucked-up sicko who rips into people while he fucks them,” David answered vulgarly.

         Adam was mortified as David went on with the tale. Maguire left David to lie in his cell, but his paralysis wasn’t due to the whipping. He'd felt far worse physical pain before. It was the state of his brother that was petrifying him. There was almost comfort in this box for David. Maguire wouldn’t touch him and no one else was allowed. This would have been a nice thought to David, but it actually only served to make David worry for his twin even more. It left him in a silent place in his head where his worst, most unwanted thoughts made themselves heard. Nightmarish images filled both his sleep and waking hours.

         When Maguire returned a week later, David prepared for the worst. The lack of Phillip's presence gave David both anxiety and hope. Maguire said nothing to support either feeling. It was obvious that David still, somehow, gave this sadistic man a bad taste. He didn’t even bother manhandling David. Rather, he barked at David to stand on his own.  He was tempted to shove the offender from behind, but decided against it.

         “I hope you don’t expect your brother to be happy to see you,” he warned.

         David’s master opened the twins' elegant room to reveal Phillip, entirely untouched. Other than the long face he wore, not a single hair seemed out of place. If anything, David noticed, he seemed a bit pampered. All the fear in Phillip’s eyes was directed towards David. The only thing holding David back from throwing a punch right then and there was the fear of Maguire punishing him again. He slept alone again that night as Phillip was permanently relocated to Maguire’s company. David had come to a decision by the time he was settled in his bed. He would find a place far away from all the others just to hold Philip there, in isolation. There had to be a place where there was no Maguire standing in the way of their love.

         “He’ll be mine by tomorrow,” David decided, muffling the vulgar sounds in the other room with his hands.

And so, he somewhat had a plan for escape set by morning. Before the sun had even risen, David was gathering normal clothing for both twins to wear outside. Nobody was awake to stop him. All he had to do was pull Phillip from Maguire’s room, somehow. The door slid open, despite any possible consequences. David could take another beating, but he would not live escaping the place without Phillip. Maguire was dead asleep, and a heavy sleep. Philly, however, was being tightly held under Maguire’s limp arm. David leaned down and whispered Phillip’s name as quiet yet sharp as possible. Phillip began stirring awake and hummed in response.

           “We should have a talk."

"Just one moment," Phillip said softly, waving his brother off as discreetly as possible.

         Outside the door, David could hear some murmurs and then a wet smacking sound. It took everything in David not to barge inside and drag Phillip out screaming. The other twin could recognize this as he left the elegantly decorated room. He didn't want to push David, so Phillip allowed David to lead him and took the jeans and sweater which were handed to him.

         "Go change,” David said. "We're going home."

         All Phillip could use to react was a tight smile, but not out of excitement for his freedom. His brother's seemingly mindless actions were making him nervous. There was no plan nor strategy in any of David's words. He only told Phillip the end result. The entire time Phillip was changing, his nerves were buzzing. His restless muscles twitched as he stretched the green sweater over his head.

         David yanked his brother into a run almost immediately after the bathroom door opened. While Phillip was grateful for a chance to relieve his locked muscles, the patting of their feet against the hardwood and marble floors was a bit loud. In some places, the footsteps even echoed. Still, by some miracle, the twins made it outside unscathed. The cold air of the early morning bit into their skin, which ached from the exposure. It was a beautiful ache, though. The pair slowed once they approached the road, but they kept a steady pace.

         Hesitating to signal for a car to stop, David instructed Phillip, "You do it. You're pretty, so they'll trust you more."

         Phillip moved to stand with his toes against the pavement. David had to force him to hold his thumb up noticeably, but it wasn't long after that when a car finally stopped. The driver, an older man, gave a questioning look through an open window.

         "We ran out of gas," David lied. "We just need a ride to our place."

         "Where's your car? I have a can in the back."

         Just before David could bark a rash, flustered answer, Phillip interjected, "My brother's too embarrassed to tell you why we actually need help. I swear on our safety, we need to get away from somebody."

         "The law?"

         "No, sir," the twins said quickly.

         The man in the car looked the two men up and down, then stopped at their bare feet. Once his eyes bounced back to their faces, he could see they were telling the truth. He had David turn out his pockets and open their bag before entering. With the old man driving the truck, David knew that there was a possibility he'd make them jump out the car moving simply for being a romantic couple of men, related or not. He refrained from any obviously romantic affection. Rather, he gently touched Phillip's hand and smiled quietly.

         David had succeeded. Phillip belonged to him and him alone, body and mind. When they could finally be alone in the house David had set aside, he aimed to settle this deeply in Phillip's mind. Phillip somehow found a way to flow in a lovingly beautiful fashion with David's possessive movements. Either out of gratitude or celebration, Phillip demonstrated every single trick Maguire had taught him. David took it in like nectar. He had to resist the urge to grumble "mine" into Philly's ear as he pulled on soft, chocolate locks of hair. This careful evasion of suspicion was useless not but a few months later.

         Phillip had finished the few steps he had left to become a psychiatrist. Most of the time, the job had Phillip working until after midnight. This day, however, went smoothly. His patients all cooperated and most had improved in their conditions. On the way home, the doctor decided to stop at an intimates store to surprise David.

         His romantic grin over the idea faded after stepping through the front door. The provocative clothing under his suit was suddenly unbearable. Phillip's screams, altared by the recording on the television, could be heard clearly. Storming in with a hope that it was only a pornstar from one of David's movies acting out a fantasy, he instead found exactly as he feared. Phillip remembered the moment playing on the screen well: Several men held him down while several more penetrated, cut, and beat his barely clothed body. Then, he noticed his brother.

         David was sitting on the sofa, oblivious. The man was lazily sprawled on the couch as his arms disappeared into his lap. The obscenities escaping his clenched teeth left no question as to what was happening just out of Phillip's view. All the other twin could do was stand in frigid horror at the scene. David snapped to reality when a sob made itself heard. The room filled with chaotic noises as David lept up to turn off the electronics and hide some other disks he had collected.

         "Philly," David gasped. "This is not what it looks like, Philly, I swear."

         "What else could it be?" Phillip shrieked. "At least close your pants before you lie and tell me you weren't just fondling yourself over my suffering and my body!"

         "It's not just that," David insisted, snapping the button of his jeans. "We went through something together, that's how it's been our whole damn lives. It just stuck with me..." he stepped towards Phillip. "I'm sorry, Philly."

         Phillip hesitated to lean into David's open arms. His face was soft and alleviating, but his actions still shook Phillip to his core. The smaller twin still found the trust to step forward through the dim room. David's large hand pressed Phillip against his torso and his brother let himself spill tears onto David's t-shirt.

         Phillip held on for dear life and whispered, "If things get bad with you, you will let me go...right?"

         "Wrong," David shuttered to Adam in current time. "I hurt him worse, and worse, and fucking worse. I couldn't let him go until he ran like hell away from me."

         There was silence. Both males stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak. Even with all he had been told and all he knew, no words came from Adam's mouth. A slender, pale hand simply reached out to caress David's cheekbone. David reached to meet Adam's hand and smiled slightly. He clasped their hands together to rest them between the pair on the bed.

         "So, what do you think? Am I fucked in the head enough to get some forgiveness?"

         Adam licked his lips to think about the question before nodding, "I think there's more to you than the killer you are now. You have your reasons for what you do. You don’t just get off on pain. What happened to you, I'll be honest that you deserved it. But... now that you've been punished, you can learn."

         David laughed in relief, leaking a bit from the eyes, "I know. I know I fucking deserve it, but you're right. I can learn. I can love you like a human fucking being..." David's heart nearly stopped as he spoke. He continued, "I love you, Adam. I really do. I'll do anything to make you stay."

         At first, this statement made Adam nervous. He remembered the ant killer he had stashed away and wondered if he should use it. The gentle care David took in his next embrace proved to Adam this was not the case. A cleansed, but rough hand twirled the red hair around its fingers. The circles being traced onto the boy's back were comforting and delicate. Adam pushed away to dig the metal cylinder from under David's mattress. Handing over the poison, Adam was anxious for David's reaction.

         The older man only gained sadness in his cloudy blue eyes, softly uttering, "Thanks... Get some rest for me, alright?" before exiting to find a beer to guzzle.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, I have a tumblr for this work here: https://bol-official.tumblr.com/


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